


You're the Other One

by FrankieTrouble



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Strength Kink, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9297569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankieTrouble/pseuds/FrankieTrouble
Summary: Today would mark the first step in your journey towards being a fully fledged Overwatch agent. Along with the group you stood with, you would be placed in your class for training and if you were lucky you would progress to agent status – if you impressed.Edit: Title change because I'm an egg and only just discovered a similar fic published last year with the same title. Many apologies to the author and to all of you for the confusion. Anyway, I like the new title MUCH more >:)





	1. Mice & Men

The silence was a deafening one. The feeling of anticipation hung heavy in the huge auditorium-like room. This was the moment you had been working towards for as long as you could remember. Your heart pounded as you waited nervously alongside the numerous Overwatch Recruits, each waiting to hear their placements in the team.

“At ease, Recruits.” Winston’s voice rung through the silence, causing a ripple effect of movement through the equally nervous, fresh young faces that stood with you.

You dropped your hand from its salute and stood with your hands behind your back, shoulder width apart, just as you’d been taught in the training academy.

Today would mark the first step in your journey towards being a fully fledged agent. Along with the group you stood within, you would be placed in your class for training and if you were lucky you would progress to agent status – if you impressed.

You were glad for your stance if only to hide your trembling hands. Your time in the academy had given you the chance to hone your skills in the art of combat and if it panned out the way you had hoped, you would be joining the defense class to train under the watchful eye of Torbjörn Lindholm. You had developed a passion for the art of defense while learning the workings of Overwatch in your early training days. You admired the strategy and precision that came with defending a team of heroes and you knew in your heart of hearts that your ability and strength lay in keeping a team of agents safe. This was in part, due to the interest that Torbjörn had shown in you during those initial weeks of training. He had run several workshops with your team of recruits and it was his vote of confidence that had ensured your place amongst the diminishing group. Your body was buzzing with enthusiasm at the prospect of growing your repertoire of defense strategies under the watchful eye of Torbjörn and his team of heroes.

You gazed at the commanders of each class in almost awe. There was the hulking strength of Reinhardt Wilhelm, commander of the tank unit. His smile betrayed the intimidating size of his figure as he gazed out at the new Recruits. You knew that he was a formidable force in the field, but he seemed to be brimming with joy and kindness and you couldn’t help but mirror his smile with a small one of your own as his gaze fell on your own.

The first name was called and assigned to the support class, led by Angela Ziegler, codename Mercy. You knew this from your hours of research. For what you lacked in physical strength, you certainly made up for in tactical research. You knew each member of the newly formed Overwatch inside out, well all but one.

Sliding your gaze to the enigmatic Soldier you took in his rigid stance and a shiver ran through you. For all of the time you spent pouring over the case files and hero profiles, the man known as Soldier 76 was still a mystery to you. There was little information available about him aside from what you had gathered in your own private research. An aging Vigilante who spent his time bringing down rogue Talon agents and attempting to expose some kind of conspiracy in relation to the Petras Act. You had previously decided that this was a man unhinged and had dismissed his antics as unlawful and dangerous to the core beliefs of Overwatch. Seeing him now, waiting for his offense class recruits, you almost changed your mind – almost. He cut a fine figure, you placed his age to be close to 50 years old, purely from the white hair. He carried himself with an air of professionalism which made you doubt your earlier assessment of him. Despite the mask and visor that hid his face, you were certain his expression was that of stoic judgment.

More and more names were called and assigned and you felt a sliver of panic wash over you as you noticed the defense class seemed to be brimming with new recruits. In your peripherals you could see that there were at best five more recruits, including yourself, that needed to be placed.

“Y/N.” Winston bellowed.

You sucked in a breath and waited with hope for the words you longed to hear. This was your moment.

“Offense class. Report to Soldier 76.”

In that moment, you could only blink stupidly. Your breath hitched in your throat. Surely this was a mistake? You misheard him. He had said offense but you knew you wouldn’t cut it in that class.

“Y/N?”

All at once you released your breath and turned your stricken expression to Soldier 76 whose red visor was fixed on you.

“Recruit!”

Your face burned as you could hear the other recruits whisper from their places behind their commanders. You took in a shaky breath, swallowed and made your way to move past Soldier 76. As you passed him he spoke, just loud enough so that only you could hear his dreaded words.

“I will deal with you later, Recruit.” His voice was a hoarse whisper and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as you realised the implication of this placement. You would never make it through the next round of training under this mans guidance. Even if you trained harder than any other recruit, the gritted voice that met you as you joined him was laced with a tone of reprimand.

The rest of the placements happened in a blur but you were numb to the goings on around you, the blood was rushing to your face and you were humiliated at your display of ignorance in front of not only the new recruits – your competition – but the Overwatch agents that you hoped to join ranks with.

 

“You have to understand that there are limited places in each class. Trust that we have might the right decision for you.”  Your gaze was lowered, fixated on your clasped hands which sat in your lap.

Winston, upon dismissing the recruits to their living quarters, had asked to speak with you in his office. The huge gorilla sat before you with an unreadable expression. Better this than having to deal with Soldier 76 who had all but ignored you and the other two recruits that made up his team to stalk away with nothing but a growl of instruction to meet him in the gym at 7am sharp tomorrow morning.

“I’m sure there’s been a mistake, Sir.” Your voice sounded small to you, like it wasn’t your own.

Winston thumbed through your file and scanned your many examination results and academy notes.

“What makes you so sure of that, Y/N?” There was no malice in his voice, he was trying to understand you.

“I…I had thought after Torbjörn’s reference I would surely make a better defense agent.” You spoke clearer now, put at ease by Winston’s respectful tone.

“Provided you progress that far, Recruit.” His response sparked something in you.

“I see less chance of that progress continuing now, Sir.” You met his gaze and held it with your own. Challenging him.

Winston raised his hands in front of him, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“That is it, right there,” he stated simply. You were unsure of what ‘it’ was.

You dropped your eyes and sighed softly. “Sir?”

“Winston is fine. To be honest with you, Y/N, Torbjörn did speak highly of your strategic abilities, however, after observing you, I felt a better fit for you would be offense. Do you mean to tell me that you disagree with me?” He was challenging you now and you knew that this conversation was heading into dangerous territory.

“Sir, no, Sir.” You attempted to keep a level tone.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m not confident I can progress beyond this phase of the training at this kind of disadvantage. I’m not…” You searched for the right words, not sure how to turn this situation to your advantage. You decided that demure would be an appropriate approach. “…particularly aggressive.”

Winston let out a bark of laughter at this which caused you to straighten, agitated heat spreading through your chest. Was he laughing at you? You looked up to see a genuine smile lighting up his face.

“This conversation leads me to believe otherwise, Recruit. Alongside the various debates you initiated in your academy phase.”

The heat dissipated in your chest and you let out a breath of resignation. It seemed, through your own impassioned dealings with other recruits, you had ousted yourself as a dominating force.

“I don’t see any harm in partaking in healthy debate,” you spoke through gritted teeth at his remarks.

Winston’s smile widened as he flicked back to your file. “Oh I completely agree Recruit, however, our own Lena Oxton, reported that you had, on various occasions referred to your new commanding officer as, and I quote ‘…a washed up vigilante in a er,” he paused to examine the notes and your mouth fell open in shock. “Ahem…a dick-measuring contest.’ Quite a colourful description, Recruit.”

Your heart sank into your stomach as realisation dawned on you. Your training officer at the time, Lena, had laughed hysterically at your description of Soldier 76. You had no idea that she would report something that you had said in the confines of the training rooms.

“I…it was the heat of the moment and I …”

Winston cut you off, “I believe your follow up comments stating that you were positive he would lose in any such contest – soldier enhancement program or not – were what pushed Lena to recommend you join offense.”

All you could do was stare, panic setting in as you realised just how fucked you truly were.

“I’m not sure I understand, Sir.”

Winston stood then, reaching out a hand for you to shake.

“Please, call me Winston. What I’m getting at, Y/N, is that it takes a whole lot of guts to sling around accusations of that kind. The type of guts we need in our offensive class.”

You had the good grace not to query whether or not the comments had been passed onto the subject of your insults, but an image of Lena Oxton, codename Tracer, regaling the longstanding agents of Overwatch with a retelling of your impassioned outburst sent a chill down your spine.

“On your way, Recruit. Be sure to check in with Soldier 76 before you retire to your room. I believe he would like to discuss your little er…display at the placement ceremony.”

Winston chuckled at the panic stricken expression that transformed your features. In a moment of pity, he patted your shoulder softly.

“Best of luck then.” He showed you out with directions to Soldier 76’s own office and it was with heavy feet that you went to face your maker.

 

“You may enter.” A gruff voice responded to your extremely timid knock.

“Sir.” You saluted in the doorway of Soldier 76’s extremely tidy office. It was sparsely decorated and housed a simple desk with a chair on either side. There was a bookshelf that held meticulously organised case files, all dated and alphabetised. You had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the sheer predictability of the setting but then you remembered the reason for your visit.

“At ease.” He didn’t invite you to sit and despite your missteps that led you to this moment, you felt annoyance at the fact.

A heavy silence filled the room that was only broken when the door hissed shut behind you. You did your best to maintain your composure, though the atmosphere was extremely tense. The man in front of you was intimidating and not because of the red glow of his visor, or the natural sneer of the mask he wore. Up close, you could see an angry scar streaking across his face and you assumed that it dragged a lot lower than the mask would allow you to see. You wondered briefly, what kind of war this man had seen but shook the thought as his gruff voice filled the room.

“Are you aware of how many Recruits applied to be here today?”

You raised an eyebrow at this but merely shook your head in response. How on earth were you supposed to know the answer to that question?

“109.” He hadn’t looked up from his desk and you could see that your file was open in front of him. How many bloody copies of your misdeeds existed in this stupid base?

“You made it to the academy, 1 of 80 in your intake. Is this correct?”

Still he did not look up.

“Yes, Sir. I believe so.”

He made a sound of agreement and turned a page in your file.

“Today, you stood amongst 20 Recruits. Yes?”

“20 including myself, sir.” You shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

“Explain to me, then, how you deign to waste the time of 19 Recruits, 4 commanding officers and our fearless leader’s time by ignoring your placement?”

He snapped his head up to gaze at you. You felt his stare penetrating you and your entire body stiffened. This man was terrifying to you and not because you had been caught red handed trash talking his good name, but simply because your fate rested in his very disapproving hands.

“Sir, I…”

He waved his hand dismissively in front of him and stood, towering over the desk. He slammed your file shut and in one swift motion had stepped around the desk to stand in front of you. He was so much taller than you but you didn’t dare look up to meet his undoubtedly critical gaze.

“I’m not sure I care to hear what you have to say for yourself. I can assure you, however, that while you are in my division, you will demonstrate respect to the processes that exist here at Overwatch.” His voice was so incredibly clipped that you could practically hear the disdain he held for you. You couldn’t really blame him, you had after all, been very verbal in your negative assessment of him. A fact you assumed he was becoming increasingly aware of. Why else would he be raking you over the coals in this manner?

“Of course, Sir.” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks burn in shame.

He took a step closer, his eyes roving over your small form. Assessing your physique and making small noises of disproval.

“You don’t strike me as the type that would fit the offense team. Perhaps we can both agree that you don’t belong in my class, you certainly took issue with the announcement. Why was that?” He slowly paced around you to stand at your back. Again, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It took all of your restraint not to turn to face him.

You swallowed your pride and said, in a shaky voice. “Sir, I offer you my deepest apologies. I did not expect the placement due to recommendations that had me preparing for a defense placement.”

He was silent for a long time, still standing behind you. His presence made you extremely uncomfortable and the previous bravado you felt in Winston’s office was long gone.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, laced with contempt and extremely close to your ear. “The best laid plans of mice and men…”

You stiffened at his close proximity and felt the tendrils of an unknown feeling curling through your stomach. You had no idea how to respond to his idiom so you remained silent. You prayed for this moment to finally pass. It did, but only when he stepped in front of you. Still gazing thoughtfully at your tiny frame.

“Your file suggests that you haven’t exactly excelled in the physical aspects of your training. You’re definitely not an ideal candidate for my division but nonetheless, here we are.”

Anger prickled inside of you and you sucked in a breath to bite back a response. He held a hand in front of your face, apparently tired of your interaction.

“For whatever reason, Tracer believes you are a good fit for my team. I will be the one who decides if you will make agent status. I suggest you get a curb on that anger and report to me for training first thing in the morning.”

You stared at him dumbly, the realisation setting in that Soldier 76 was now the keeper of your fate. Again, you offered a silent prayer that he was kept in the dark about your pursuits to defame him in the academy.

“That will be all, Recruit.” He turned his back to you in a dismissal that was both cold and uncaring.

“Sir?” Your voice was timid and you barely recognised it.

“What?” He barked.

“I was under the impression we were already meeting you at 0700 hours.”

He chuckled and the deep timbre of his voice filled the room. “Oh yes, Recruit, but for you, our training will begin at 0500 hours.”

You clenched your fists, willing the words of protest not to escape your mouth. With gritted teeth, you simply saluted him. “Sir, yes, Sir.”

“Dismissed.”

You turned to leave, your hand shaking as you pressed the release on the door. It whooshed open and you head him call your name.

“Y/N?”

You turned, meeting his eyes. He was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. You could have sworn you heard a smirk in his voice when he finally spoke again.

“For future reference, soldier enhancement program or not, I would definitely win in THAT kind of contest.”

The blush that crept up your neck and over your face burned hot and was extremely telling of how mortified you felt that he knew every single horrible thing you had said about him. Before you could reply the doors slid shut and blocked him from your view. The best laid plans indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first attempt at a Reader insert and it would be presumptuous of me to say I nailed it. I definitely didn't but this little idea is something I've been obsessing over for some time. Comments and reviews are my life force. I'm open to constructive feedback and suggestions or corrections of canon. I'm not entirely new to the fandom but the lore is massive and if I'm incorrect about something I want to know, stat! I'll sit in where I fit in my dudes. 
> 
> Also - it's been an age since I wrote fan fiction or fiction of any kind so please bear with me while I brush off the cobwebs. 
> 
> As a side note defence vs defense and offence vs offense is a concept I'm struggling with. The dotted red line beneath the terms used drives me insane BUT the Overwatch website is telling me that the s variant is the canonical term. I can't even...


	2. Age is Just a Number

“On your feet, soldier!” A barking voice roused you from your slumber and your eyes groggily slid open to meet an angry red, glowing visor.

Rolling to your side you gazed in horror at the flashing red numbers on the clock that sat on your bedside table. It was ten minutes past five and you had overslept.

With a strangled noise, you threw the covers off your body and pulled yourself into a salute.

“Sir, I’m so sorry.”

His towering frame filled your room and his presence seemed to suck the air out of your quarters. You shifted uncomfortably as you felt Soldier 76’s gaze slide over your sparsely clothed form. You’d slept in an oversize tee and your underwear and you were uncomfortably aware of the fact that you now stood before your commanding officer, late and extremely underdressed.

“For every minute you have wasted of mine, I will add a kilometre to our morning run,” he said as he tossed you a pair of running shorts you’d carefully laid out the night before. You fumbled to catch them but failed and his response was a noise of disgust.

“I’ll be waiting by the training facility. Do not be long, Recruit.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of your room.

As you pulled on your training gear and threw your long hair into what you thought resembled a neat bun, you swore to yourself, disappointed in your inability to set things right with 76. You took a moment to observe yourself in the floor to ceiling mirror and saw what he obviously had decided was a body that lacked any real tone or muscle. In your short running shorts and form-fitting tank, you didn’t leave much to the imagination. You were a small girl, always had been and in your formative years you had preferred books and the pursuit of knowledge to gyms and keeping fit. You realised now, how much of a disadvantage this placed you at and pulled a face at your thin and pale reflection. How on earth were you going to make it through this next phase of recruitment? You weren’t cut out for engaging enemies in an offensive situation, hell you’d barely paid attention to Tracer as she explained the finer details of adapting to the unusual situations of battle.

You fought the feelings of dread as you turned and made your way through the twisting turns of the Overwatch recruitment facility. Ever since you could remember, you idolised the heroes of Overwatch as they battled to keep the human race safe from Omnics. Your unusual attention to detail saw you, as a child, following their progress with an impassioned zeal. You knew from a very young age that your place in life was fighting for Overwatch. It had broken your heart, as a teenager, to hear of the disbanding of the organisation you worked to join. You spent years, lost in life, moving between various aid organisations to volunteer your time. You picked up the skills of survival, basic field medic training and most importantly, the unbelievably rewarding feeling of helping those in dire need. It was during this time that you saw the brutality of war, famine and the hatred of terrorists that threatened the world and its people.  With no formal training, it had become increasingly difficult to find organisations that would allow you to enter areas of growing violence. The world was becoming a dangerous place and a volunteer with no background or training was a liability. When news of the reformation of Overwatch reached you, you knew that this was your chance to continue your work, to finally be recognised and to help protect the people of the world you called home.

Your journey to this moment in time had not been an easy one. As Soldier 76 had made painfully clear, you were not a particularly threatening warrior. You didn’t have the skills that other recruits had been blessed with but you had worked incredibly hard to secure your placement at the academy.

You knew what you lacked in physical strength you made up for in tactical knowledge. You had made sure that your strength of understanding the lay of the battlefield would be enough to get you to this point. While others were enjoying their youth, partying and pursuing happiness, you had spent the early part of your 20s meticulously studying tactical warfare, guerrilla combat and specifically the Talon organisation. Your diligence in research was your only drawcard and one that you felt was becoming less and less relevant to the path that you now found yourself on.

As you stepped through the doors of the training facility and into the fresh air you saw him, standing with his back to you. He didn’t wear his usual leather jacket, instead a tight black t-shirt sculpted itself to his muscular frame. Staring at him from behind, you could barely tell that he was an older man. His body was unbelievably defined and you were certain there wasn’t an ounce of fat to be seen. You wondered, idly, if he was a handsome man. The mask and visor he wore gave you the sense that he was unfeeling at best but was he attractive? His departing comment in his office the day before rung through your mind and before you could allow yourself any more time to inappropriately survey his physique you announced your arrival, “Sir!”

He turned and made a point to look at his watch before announcing, “fifteen minutes late, fifteen kilometres. What we don’t finish this morning, we will do so in the evening.”

You wanted to object, to yell and stamp your foot at the sheer preposterous nature of his demand but you knew that in this case, you had to be responsible for your error.

“Yes, sir!”

He took off at a slow jog that led you away from the base and into the thick forest that hid the Overwatch operations. For the first kilometre, you kept pace, staring at his back and the way the muscles worked with ease to carry him ahead of you. Was he speeding up? Surely not but you couldn’t help but notice that he was moving farther and farther away from you. It was then that you noticed your breath beginning to labour. This was probably the most running you had done since your teenage years and you were struggling to catch up with him.

“Recruit!” 76 barked, stopping abruptly to turn and stare at you with what you assumed was a look of anger.

You reached him and through ragged breaths you managed a shaky, “Sir?”

“We’ve run a mere 3km and you are already this fatigued. Keep pace, or double your distance. Up to you.”

Was that bastard laughing at you? Because you could have sword you heard a tinge of mocking in the way he spoke. You swore under your breath and steeled yourself to run at his heels. You pushed through the barriers of pain, no longer caring that your breath was heaving and he could most definitely hear how hard you struggled.

You could pay no heed to the beautiful scenery around you as you ran behind your commander. The tell tale signs of a stitch began to creep into your side and you held your hand against it as you ran, awkwardly stumbling through a particularly dense section of the woods.

He must have known you were hitting your limits because abruptly he stopped and had you not been fixated on the muscles in his back, you would have run straight into him. As it were, you stood very close, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat.

He gazed at you for a long time, no sign of struggle apparent. Had he even broken a sweat yet?

When he spoke, it was quiet and his words dripped with contempt. “You’re not good enough for this organisation. We’ll turn back but you need to seriously consider whether or not this is your place in life.”

You bristled at his words, there was something about the utter discomfort you felt and the sting of his judgement that caused your anger to bubble inside of you.

“Forgive me for saying so, _Sir,”_ your words were clipped and despite your heavy breathing, the anger was apparent. “I believe on that point, you are incorrect.”

He scoffed at your challenge and reached for the wrist of the hand at your side, pulling your arm up and out from your body. The touch jarred you and you were about to protest when he spoke, “not an inch of muscle. How do you suppose you will hold a rifle? Carry a med kit or worse, a wounded agent to safety?”

You snatched your hand away and stared at him in defiance, your breathing finally calming. “Hana Song.”

His brow knitted together in confusion. “What about her?”

“Hana Song, aged 19, Tank division.” You tried to keep your voice steady. The way his body tensed and bristled told you that this was a man not accustomed to being openly defied by his subordinates.

“I fail to see…”

“She’s a video gamer, as small as me, known to maintain poor nutrition habits.” You stuck your chin forward as you spoke, searching for confidence to continue while 76 stood, dumbfounded as you regurgitated the information you had learned in the academy.

“Your point?” 76 growled, stepping closer to you.

“My point, _Sir_ , is that I may be small, I’m definitely not fit but I will train harder than any person at this facility to secure a position as an Overwatch agent. Your assessment of me is not incorrect, I am not suited for offensive ops and I have not prepared myself for this regime but with all due respect, Sir, should you not trust in your Leader’s decision to appoint me here? Are you not required to ensure that I access equal opportunities to train and prove to you and everyone here that I _am_ good enough for this organisation?”

Your voice shook and you cursed yourself for feeling intimidated by his close proximity.

For a long time, silence hung in the air. 76’s chest rose and fell slowly as he faced you, no doubt deciding what kind of punishment befit your sudden outburst. If only you could see his eyes and get a read on what he was thinking. Damn that visor!

“Yet,” he growled and you could have sworn there was a hint of approval in the tone of his voice.

“Sir?” You took an unsure step backwards.

“You’re not suitable, yet.” The promise in this statement was the first positive you had faced since you had arrived at the facility and the relief that washed through you caused a beaming smile.

Not used to such displays, 76 turned his back to you and rolled his shoulders. He cleared his throat to speak but you darted around him, a new bounce in your step. So what if every muscle in your legs ached and your top was wet with sweat. You had made a hairline crack in this commander’s tough façade.

“Race ya!” You called behind you as you ran ahead of him with a new resolve to win this mans respect.

 

76 was a man of principles and he had known this from a young age. A farmer’s son, he had spent his youth working the land and learning the value of hard labour. He’d joined the military at 18 and it was this work ethic that would push him through the ranks. He was a natural marksman with a mind for combat logistics that could be matched by no other, 76 had captured the attention of his superiors and it wasn’t long before he was invited to a classified soldier enhancement program. This would be the turning point in his military career and the moment he would say goodbye to his simple life in Indiana for good.

The singularly greatest feeling in his life, was when 76 was recruited to lead the ranks of a new taskforce named Overwatch, developed in response to the ever growing Omnic Crisis.  Strike Commander Jack Morrison was his official rank and the beaming smile of pride his father had rewarded him with was worth every painstakingly difficult battle, 76 had fought.

Those might have been the best years of his life, leading a team of elite agents during the the Crisis. That time would be fleeting and his rank, along with his past had long since been buried in the rubble of the Swiss Overwatch headquarters.

It was 8 long years that 76 spent hunting down those he believed responsible for the fall of Overwatch. It was a pursuit that gave him the singular focus to exact revenge on those that compromised all that he thought was good in the world. Despite the public backlash against Overwatch, 76 still believed fervently that it was an organisation that was integral to peace on earth.

Perhaps this passion was what caused him to decide with something akin to disapproval that his latest subordinate was not a particularly good fit for not only his squad, but the organisation as a whole.

After the morning run, 76 had ordered you to breakfast with a curt reminder that you were required back at the gym for 7am. He found himself standing in the doorway of the cafeteria, gazing at your back as you ate your meal silently. The sight of you caused a frown to form behind his mask. You just didn’t cut it and it stumped him as to how you’d even made it through the academy. After the efforts of your run, your hair was a mess and your body was still covered in a sheen of sweat, while 76 had barely even struggled. He fought back a laugh of derision. He was convinced you wouldn’t last the week, but your impassioned outcry and frankly obtuse comparison to Hana Song piqued an interest in him. Perhaps it was the years of solitude that caused an irritating pang of sympathy to wash over him or maybe it was the last shred of Jack Morrison, a hero to all, that caused him to utter the dreaded phrase that sparked such a hopeful gleam in your eye.

He had been impressed – _mildly_ at best - at the newfound vigour you seemed to possess as you had run in front of him. Had you been closer in age and perhaps a little more physically suited to combat, 76 wouldn’t have minded setting his pace to run behind you, hell he probably would have enjoyed the view. It had been so long since he’d trained a female recruit or even really spent extended periods of time with the opposite sex, especially one with such a sharp tongue. He caught himself imagining the opportunities for playful banter and the verbal sparring, a pass time he hadn’t engaged with for some years. 76 shook the thought from his mind, you were a recruit and an unskilled one at that. The very thought was inappropriate.

In his past he took great joy in mentoring the younger Overwatch agents, feeling a sense of pride as he saw them grow and change and continuously better themselves. But there was a very strong seed of doubt that he would experience that kind of success with you.

With a final scoff, he spun on his heel and stalked away from you. His mind travelled back to the initial recruitment conversations and he recalled the feeling of outrage as Lena, Wilhelm, Tjorbörn and Winston laughed hysterically over your file. It was Lena who had taken it upon herself to re-enact the ridiculous conversation you’d had with the other recruits that sent him over the edge. He had slammed his fists against the long conference table and stood in anger, announcing that the day you made it through to this agency, was the day he would retire.

Winston seemed to take issue at his brash declaration and before 76 knew it, as some form of sick punishment, he was stuck with you along with the very sinister instructions to ensure that you received the best training possible.

76 knew that Winston was calling his bluff and after hearing your argument in the woods today, he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps, if you were serious about working your ass off, he might be able to have the last laugh after all. The worst that would come of it would be that he’d train a damn fine agent that would benefit the entire organisation. He shook his head at this thought and recalled your complete inability to run a simple morning track. He would definitely have his work cut out for him.

 

The day had continued in a similar fashion to the intensity of your morning run, after your breakfast you reported straight to 76 for a rigorous 3-hour training session. It appeared that your fellow recruits had decided, along with Soldier 76, that you were beneath them and they’d all but ignored you. 76 had barked orders at the three of you without giving you too much attention aside from occasional remarks about your inability to lift, spar or keep up with your classmates.

After a particularly gruelling weight session, you had to excuse yourself momentarily to the restroom. You weren’t sure if it was because you needed to throw up or simply remove yourself from the intensity of the workout. Either way, you wandered on shaky feet to the bathroom to splash water on your face.

You gazed at your sallow reflection, your face pale from the exertion of the morning workout. Your hair was matted to your head with sweat and you looked like something akin to a walking corpse.

Leaning your tired body against the wall you threw your head back and slid down to rest on the floor. This was definitely not what you had in mind when you had been pushed through the academy. You didn’t expect your limbs to be aching before lunchtime of your first day, nor did you expect the jeers from your classmates. In your mind, you would have been forming bonds with these people and your comradery would keep you sane. The memory of their eye rolls and whispered comments to each other caused a heavy sadness to settle in.

Giving yourself a moment to wallow in your pity, you closed your eyes and concentrated on steadying your heart rate.  You didn’t hear the door of the bathroom open or the small gasp of the intruder as they took in your pitiful form, resting against the wall.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” A small, high pitched voice queried.

You opened your eyes and looked up into the concerned face of Hana Song.

“Oh…”

Scrambling to your feet, you attempted to neaten your hair. It was in vein and caused her to let out a small giggle.

“Hana.” She held out a slender hand and you took it, aware of the fact that your own was cold and clammy.

“Y/N.”

A look of realisation swept over Hana’s face when she heard your name. Her reaction, along with the way the other recruits isolated you at breakfast was all you needed to confirm that you had developed a reputation throughout Overwatch and potentially, not a very good one.

“Man, 76, huh?” Hana queried as she turned her attention to her flawless reflection.

Standing beside her, in your current state, was not doing wonders for your self esteem. Your only reaction was a soft laugh of agreement.

You watched Hana apply a light sheen of lip gloss to her tiny pout, she was so _small_. You remembered your comparison in the woods and sighed internally. Who were you kidding? You were nowhere near the realm of girls like Hana Song.

She must have noticed your crestfallen face because she turned and with an expression of tender kindness, offered you her lip gloss. You knew that for girls like Hana, this was the forging of a friendship so you gratefully accepted her offering.

“Y/N, you’ve divided the base.” She watched like a proud mother as you swiped the gloss over your lips.

“I’m sure. Let me guess, half think I’m going to be the worst recruit that’s walked these hallowed halls, while the other are placing bets on how long it will take 76 to work me to death?”

Hana laughed, a tinkling sound but the hearty slap she threw at your back did not exactly fit the young Korean girl. Despite your earlier sulk, you found yourself smiling at her. It felt nice to let your guard down and just enjoy the company of someone who wasn’t a chiselled old man barking orders at you.

“Close!” She said in a sing song voice.

You turned to her with a raised eyebrow, supressing a laugh of your own as she leaned into you dramatically, her own eyebrows wiggling conspiratorially.

“Half of the base do think you’re pretty…unskilled.” You silently thanked her for her tact. “…the other half though, think you might be what finally sends the Old Man to an early discharge.”

You laughed at this and handed her lip gloss back to her. She’d be completely unaware of how her simple gesture of kindness had grounded you and as you turned to leave you said, “speaking of the Old Man I better get back to training.”

You pushed the bathroom door open to leave and waved happily at her.

She beamed at you and returned the gesture. “I hope you prove everyone wrong. Especially about the early discharge thing, I'm sure he’s rough on you but, you know...” She shrugged as if to emphasise how difficult it was to actually describe the enigma that was Soldier 76. “He means well?”

The question in her tone made you laugh again and as you backed out of the bathroom you rolled your eyes. “I’m sure he does. Besides, it wouldn’t exactly be an early discharge for someone as old as…”

“Recruit!”

You had backed into an extremely hard, unmoving object and the deep growl of the voice was enough to confirm that once again, you had been sprung.

Hana’s face spoke volumes, her eyes wide and her mouth opening and closing in utter mortification.

You wished in that moment that you, like Tracer, had some kind of chronal powers to extract yourself from the total embarrassment of this situation. You could feel your face burning and it took all of your willpower to turn, albeit extremely slowly, to face Soldier 76.

“Sir!” You couldn’t meet his eyes, as you saluted him.

Hana chose that moment to rush out of the bathroom, you weren’t sure if she was attempting to deescalate the situation or make it worse when you heard the words tumbling from her mouth.

“76, I’m sorry I kept her for so long, she was in a bad way when I found her and I thought I would have to take her to Dr Ziegler, man you should have seen her.” You had to suppress a groan of embarrassment. You didn’t need 76 to know that you were struggling as hard as you were.

 “Leave us, Song.” He growled, moving aside to indicate he wanted her to pass.

Hana shot you a sympathetic look and the realisation dawned on you that you had absolutely no idea how to talk your way out of this one.

Once again, you found yourself in the midst of an extremely awkward silence. How you wished for the ground to swallow you whole. All you could do was concentrate on keeping your breath steady and will the red to leave your face.

When he finally spoke, it was with a low voice, dangerous and extremely intimidating. “What will it take for you to realise that one of these days your mouth is going to get you into some serious trouble?” You couldn’t be sure, but was he enjoying your discomfort?

“Sir I…”

He moved his gloved hand in front of your face, holding it up to silence you.

“I don’t want to hear another apology from you. I’m beginning to think you’re harbouring some kind of grudge, Y/N.” The way he said your name, you definitely weren’t mistaking it, he was enjoying this exchange and you were convinced it was because of the growing intimidation he was making you feel.

He was so much bigger than you, were he an irrational man he could break you in two. You thanked whatever or whomever it was watching over you that he was able to at least keep a level head. You desperately searched for something to say, some way to diffuse the tension that you had regrettably caused, once again.

“I don’t have a grudge.” You muttered lamely.

76 chuckled at this. It was a deep, velvety sound and despite the situation you once again felt the coils of an unfamiliar feeling in your stomach at the sheer _maleness_ of his voice.

“At ease, Recruit.”

You released your breath with a small whoosh and felt your shoulders slump in defeat. The utter intensity of the morning was getting the better of your emotions and you felt yourself on the edge of some kind of emotional snap. You knew though, that you could absolutely not afford for Soldier 76 to think you any weaker than he already did.

“You must think I’m a real piece of work.” The heightened state of your emotions had stripped away any formalities you knew were expected of you. In truth, you felt like a trapped animal, wild and desperate.

Soldier 76 took a step towards you and had the wall of the hallway not been flush with your back, you would have stepped backward and away from him. It was his hand, rising, that caused you to flinch irrationally from him.

He growled softly, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, roughly lifting your face towards him. You scrunched your eyes as the angry glare of his visor pierced through you. His close proximity and the way he held your face caused your heart to inexplicably race. You could smell him, he was so damn close, a mixture of aftershave and male sweat and it was almost intoxicating. _Almost._ Why was he holding you this way? Why was your stomach flip-flopping and your heart racing like a stupid treacherous beast? You couldn’t stand him…right?!

“Hmmm, your pupils do seem a little dilated,” he said before dropping his hand to yank the glove from it. You were pretty sure they weren’t dilated from your over-exertion.

Your eyes trailed down to his now bare hand, the first time you’d seen it free of his usual gloves. His skin was tan and there were scars littered across the top of his hand. You knew this because it was slowly raising to your clammy forehead. Your skin burned as he held his hand against you and again, you whimpered, unsure if it was because you were scared of him or the burning touch of his hand.  

“Relax, Recruit! I’m not going to hit you!” He spat out before removing his hand. “In future, if the training is too difficult, you need to communicate your limits.”

The haze of confusion lifted from your brain and your mouth fell open in shock.

“You’ll need to report to Dr Ziegler, I need clearance from her that you are able to continue our training regime.”

You couldn’t stop the glare from reaching your eyes and your voice was angry when you spoke. “And if I’m not cleared?”

He chuckled at this, uncharacteristically patting you on the shoulder. “I might have some peace and quiet for the first time today.”

You shrugged his hand angrily from your shoulder and crossed your arms over your chest. “This isn’t a joke!” Try as you might, your growl could in no way intimidate a man of his massive size or experience.

“Neither is an early discharge…” he stepped back from you and pulled his glove back on “…at any age.”

He spun on his heel and stalked away from you, leaving you once again in open-mouthed shock. With a growl of anger, you irrationally lashed out and kicked at the wall of the hallway.

The result was an uncomfortable hobble to the lower floor medic bay to await your 'clearance' from Dr. Ziegler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving the feedback, my dudes! I'm so touched at the positive notes. I've done some major editing to this chapter and I'm praying like the dickens that the Australian heat hasn't melted my brain and in turn caused me to miss something. I kept fucking up the tense of 76's little aside but hopefully I've caught everything. 
> 
> As always, comments are my life force and thank you for the time you've taken already to leave me your extremely kind words. 
> 
> Also be my friend:
> 
> tumblr -> https://frankietrouble.tumblr.com 
> 
> Be there or be square


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